


Small Oversight

by upbeat



Series: Patrick Brewer, COO (Or, "What Happened, Patrick?") [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24665797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upbeat/pseuds/upbeat
Summary: Now that they’re officially in business together, David has business cards made up for Patrick, but when the order comes in, something's not quite right.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer & David Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Patrick Brewer, COO (Or, "What Happened, Patrick?") [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794337
Comments: 48
Kudos: 219





	Small Oversight

“So, um… ” 

David’s mouth scrunches to the side in an attempt to hide his smile. 

“What the… ?” Patrick whispers at the piece of cardstock in his hand.

It had been exactly three weeks since they were officially in business together when David realized he should have some business cards made up for Patrick. Ones that matched the cards he already had made for himself. Simple, minimalist, a perfect sampling of the Rose Apothecary aesthetic. The small box of Patrick’s cards arrived at the shop a few moments ago, interrupting their afternoon of inventory and restocking. 

"... I -- um. What…. what happened?" There’s a faintly detectable quiver in David’s voice as he tries desperately to hold back the laughter building up in his chest.   
  


PATRICK BREWER  
Co-Founder  
COO  
Small and bold  
  


Patrick places the business card down firmly on the table. 

"I think it's pretty obvious what happened, David," he says after a moment, his mouth tightening. The cardstock snaps between his fingers and the counter, catching David’s attention. He can’t tell if Patrick is angry or not. 

“I’m assuming that _this --_ ” Patrick presses his index finger down onto the lower left corner of the card where the text is, “-- should _be_ small and bold, not _say_ ‘small and bold?’ Is that right?” The card moves a little under the crushing weight of his finger. 

Maybe Patrick is a little angry.

David is still trying to contain a smirk and now he’s feeling a little guilty on top of it all, so he tries to distract himself by fanning out the rest of the business cards in front of them. He pushes them around the table like he’s doing a half-hearted closeup magic trick. 

“Did you see a proof first?”

“Yes, I saw a proof first,” David pronounces defensively. “I saw it and saw that that… _part_ wasn’t… smaller and bold like it should be, so I… told them to make it… small and bold…” he trails off.

“You ‘told them,’ meaning… “

"... Meaning I typed it out right there on the bottom... Okay, I’m sorry, Patrick! But I didn't think they were going to just, like… _print that!"_

“And they didn’t give you a _final_ proof before printing?”

“I just… I _assumed_ they would do it like they did mine!" His voice goes up an octave as he reaches behind the counter and brings out his own business card. Patrick leans in a little too closely and David can feel the slightest puff of breath on his shoulder as they look at the small and bold font under David’s name.

“Huh," Patrick says after a few seconds. "See, _that_ looks nice." He’s standing so closely that David can actually feel him relax a little.

"Yeah, um,” David swallows audibly out of guilt or something else entirely. “So... I don't know why yours came out like... _that…_ ” His voice is quiet. 

There’s a strange, deafening silence then so David moves back toward the table and picks up Patrick’s card to examine it more closely. 

He re-reads the words in his head. _Small and bold._ That wasn’t an _inaccurate_ description of the Patrick Brewer David had come to know over the past two months. Sure, he wasn't actually that small, being only a few inches shorter and with those strong, broad shoulders. But then David thinks about Patrick’s determined half-strides in his well-fitted jeans as he walks into the store every morning, and his, _“Oh, I’m gonna get the money”_ from a few weeks ago. He feels a laugh coming on again as his eyes scan over the 150 cardstock _Patrick Brewer small and bold’s_ scattered out in front of them.

Suddenly Patrick’s hip bumps his just a little as he moves to straighten out the cards on the table and David feels himself smiling freely now. Sensing Patrick’s anger has dissipated, at least enough so that he no longer looks like he’s trying to burrow holes through the denim of his pants pockets, David takes a risk and says the one thing that’s been on his mind since he saw those three small (but not bold) words. 

"It's not… wrong," he says casually, the right corner of his mouth teasing upwards into a smile. He picks up one of the cards and taps its edge against the counter, beckoning a response from the other man. 

Patrick turns toward him.

David can play games, too.

“The um,” David looks down at the card in his hand then back up at Patrick with a glint in his eyes. “The ‘small and bold’ thing.”

Patrick’s eyes narrow and he tucks his lips between his teeth. 

“David,” he warns. Another silence falls between them. Patrick tilts his chin up and squares his shoulders, his arms crossed tightly against his chest, only further proving David’s point. He looks a little bit irritable now but also maybe even a little… fond.

Looking down at his business partner, David’s smile widens. He thinks Patrick is about to protest, about to say something biting in return, but instead he takes a single, purposeful step closer and then reaches behind David for his phone.

"You know what I’m going to do now?” Patrick deflects evenly. “I'm going to call the printing company." He pauses. "No, better yet, _you’re_ going to call the printing company." 

He reaches around the other side to grab David’s phone, their arms just barely grazing each other’s in the process. He places the phone solidly into David’s palms and clasps both their hands together around it. Patrick’s hands are warm, so warm, and David’s mouth twitches eagerly. 

“Call them, and get this fixed, please,” Patrick gives his hand a tight squeeze for emphasis. 

David nods. He's still smiling. He glances down and he wonders how long they’ll stand like this, in the middle of their store, hands over hands, like they’re about to bow their heads and close their eyes and ask for blessings over David’s cell phone and Patrick’s misprinted business cards. 

Patrick does bow his head, but only to release David’s hands. He turns back to the table and picks up where he left off, pulling the packing slip out from the box. 

"Are you _sure_ you don’t want to keep them, though?" David tries him again, picking up one of the cards and waving it in front of them. "It's kind of cute." 

"Don’t," Patrick snatches the card from David’s fingers and shoves it and his hands back in his pockets. “It’s not… cute,” he says suddenly less like the even-keeled Patrick from moments ago and more like a defiant child as he pushes his hands down even further into his pockets and pulls his arms in tighter. He might actually be blushing but David can’t exactly tell because Patrick has turned away from him now and is rubbing the toe of his shoe on some imaginary speck on the floor.

“Okay, are you really, like, embarrassed about the ‘small’ thing?” David lets up. “I certainly didn’t peg you as someone who has a Napoleon Complex. And you know you’re not actually that... small.”

“No, David, I’m not embarrassed about the ‘small’ thing,” he pulls out his hands and places them on his hips. “It’s just… this whole mistake is a big oversight… is all...” He looks up and to his left at possibly another imaginary speck somewhere on the wall this time. 

David squints at him skeptically.

“Mmm, I think you’re a _little_ embarrassed,” he teases. 

“David?” Patrick chides but the slight pitch in his voice sounds more flustered than anything close to admonitory. “Call those guys. Get this all sorted out.” 

He shakes off his shoulders and picks up a box full of art prints and stationary from their latest vendor drop off. “Meanwhile, _I’m_ going to go sort all of _this_ out.” He heads towards the display at the back of the store. 

David watches as he reaches up to place the first set of handmade canvas prints on the top shelf.

"Um, do you want, like, a step stool for that? Or a ladder… ? Or what if I just, like, hoisted you up on my shoulders?" 

Patrick throws him a backwards, lingering glance, then drops the box with a thud, turns on his heel, and stalks off to the back room. 

“Okay, are you getting the ladder?” David calls out to him. “Because it’s not back there -- we left it outside! Remember?”


End file.
